


John Wick: Devil

by SufficientRogue



Category: John Wick (Movies)
Genre: Found Family, Gen, Not a romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-01-16 16:28:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21274220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SufficientRogue/pseuds/SufficientRogue
Summary: John finds his back against the wall as he attempts to begin his revenge on The High Table. The Bowery King reminds John of one last card he has in his pocket: his goddaughter, Nadia Voronin. Reluctant to ask for her help, but in need of a safe place to get back on his feet, John makes a visit under the cover of darkness to lay his cards on the table and hope that Nadia won't side with her adopted father, Winston.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work has been kicking around my head for a while and has spawned a whole trilogy of stories I hope to write in the future. I don't have a beta reader, so I apologize for any mistakes I don't catch.

John stood in front of the large brownstone, staring up at the windows on the top floor. They were still lit and shadows danced across them. He pulled the baseball cap down over his eyes and walked up the steps carefully. His back and chest still ached from the events of the Continental. He was getting too old for this. 

She was never supposed to be a part of the plan. When the Bowery King had said her name John's blood had begun to burn hot. She was a civilian. She had gotten out. There was no place for her on this chessboard. 

There was an understanding among the High Table and the employees it sponsored: Nadia was not to be harmed, harassed, coerced, or otherwise bothered with any business related to the criminal underworld. 

Nadia Voronin. The adopted daughter of Winston and his late wife, Emily. Brought to them by none other than John himself. Emily had begged John to be her godfather. She would trust no one else. Reluctantly he agreed, with the stipulation that she be trained by the Director. 

She took to it like a fish to water. Nadia didn't want to just be good. If her godfather was her "Uncle John", she would settle for nothing but being the absolute best. And John knew she would be. It was in her blood.

Tatiana and Borya Voronin were a part of the Ruska Romas as John had been. Like John, they were taken under the wing of the Director. They excelled. When John went into the Marines they stayed to start their way in the assassination business. And they were great. Eventually, as their success grew, they married and had their daughter, Nadia. From there, they reigned on the top. For a while. 

The abrupt end to their story was a hail of bullets in the dark. They had made powerful enemies. Crossed the wrong people. And they paid for it in blood. 

The rumor was that the order had been to kill everyone in the Voronin home. For reasons unknown, little Nadia was spared from the hand of death and was found by none other than John Wick. The Director had hoped he would save the couple and their young child in time. But it was not meant to be. 

While John and Winston were pleased with allowing Nadia to unleash her torrent of emotions from her unfortunate orphanage through her aggressive training, Emily had wanted more for her daughter than the spilling of blood. She counseled Nadia that the people she would kill should she choose to walk the path of the assassin would not be any of the people responsible for the death of her loved ones. And so instead, Emily filled her head with other pursuits: books, fashion, and art. Nadia proved to be a good artist with a keen eye for architecture. John smiled at the memory of her pointing out the windows of his car, giving him details about the various types of architecture of buildings around the city as he drove them for ice cream one time in the summer. 

When Emily grew ill, Winston and John encouraged Nadia to pursue a career as an architect. Her new mother lived to see her acceptance to Cornell University, but not her graduation. 

Nadia's graduation had been the last time John had seen her. He introduced her to Helen. She had reciprocated by introducing him to Deacon, the pre-med graduate that she would soon become engaged to. John didn't really think much of the kid, but it was clear he made Nadia happy and that was good enough for him. 

A million thoughts raced through John's mind as he stood at her door. Had she married that kid? He thought he recalled seeing an invitation come across his path, but it had been when Helen was beginning to get sick and it didn't even register to him at that time. Did she have a child of her own now? One with the same dark hair and big round eyes her mother had when she was a little girl? 

He raised his hand to the doorbell and pressed it firmly before he lost his nerve. What would he do if her husband answered? He thought it unlikely given who she was. She would want to handle the matter herself. Especially if it might have something to do with her father. 

The porch light came on and John turned his head at the sudden explosion of light. 

"Who is it?" A female voice called.

Always cautious. Just like he had taught her. 

Rather than say anything, he held up a picture in front of the peephole of the door, far enough away for her to be able to make it out. It was a doodle of the top portion of the Chrysler building, its art deco style accentuated. Nadia had drawn it for him on one summer day where they pretended to be a normal uncle and niece in New York City. She had been 13 at the time. He sat and ate a hot dog while she moved her head up and down, from the building to the small piece of paper she had pulled from the back of a novel she had in her bag. Her hand was as steady with her lines as it was with any blade or gun she had ever been handed. But unlike those tools, this one made her smile. 

The porch light shut-off quickly and for a moment John thought she had just left him. But slowly he heard the soft clicks of her locks sliding back.


	2. Chapter 2

The door creaked open and her face appeared, older than he had ever seen her, but still beautiful. It was a strange feeling looking at how grown up she was while remembering how little she had once been. He was beginning to understand how parents felt.

"You're bold," she said quietly. She beckoned him inside. 

"So you know?" he replied as he stepped through her door. 

"Of course I do. Do you really think they would have been able to keep it from me?"

He looked around at his surroundings. "Well, it certainly looks like you've added interior decorating to your list of skills."

"It doesn't have the same appeal. Writing one's legacy in the sky is always more fulfilling than filling a room with furniture."

She walked past him and towards the back of the house. She flipped on the lights to the kitchen, a large open space with black marble countertops, and offered him a seat. 

The tea kettle made its way from the pantry to the sink and stove, Nadia's eyes never leaving her task. John sat quietly as he had so many times before and watched her go through the motions. The steadiness of her hands had not seemed to falter over time. 

Finally, she produced two cups of tea and sat across from him. "So, you’re out to kill my father." 

John nodded. 

"Why?"

"At first, it was just because The Elder stated if I did it my excommunicado and my bounty would be erased." 

"But what did Dad even do?"

"Ruffled some High Table feathers. Refused to step down from the Continental."

"As everyone always knew he would. Was this the plan all along?"

John shrugged. "I can't say for certain."

Nadia nodded. "Well, you said at first. I'm assuming this is now about revenge." 

John didn't speak. He knew he didn't have to. 

"Okay. What does that have to do with me?" 

They heard a phone ring from the living room. Nadia ignored it, choosing to stare at John instead. 

"The Bowery King thought you might be able to help."

She shook her head. "How's that? Aiding and abetting? That kind of nullifies my neutral status." 

The phone stopped ringing and a man's voice echoed from the living room. John noted it must have been Deacon. His attention turned back to Nadia. "I know it would. Which is why I really thought it was a ridiculous idea but he wouldn't give it a rest until I came to you. And the only time I feel like I can walk about the city these days is at night." 

Nadia reached out and touched his hand. "It's fine. I'm not mad. I just….I don't know how to help or what to do and I am worried about you." She frowned down at his hand as she realized his ring finger was missing.

"You don't have to worry about me. Your Uncle John can handle himself, remember?" 

"Oh. I didn't realize we had company." A man's voice echoed into the kitchen. Deacon walked in and laid the phone on the countertop. 

Nadia retracted her hand and stood up. "Yes. Honey, you remember my Uncle John, right? You two met at our graduation."

Deacon walked over to his wife and wrapped an arm around her. "Yeah, I believe I do." He reached out his hand to shake John's. "Good to see you again, sir. I know how upset Nadie was that you couldn't make the wedding."

Nadia's frowned. "It's nothing. Aunt Helen was sick. She took priority. It's understandable. And I'm sorry we missed her funeral. Deacon had a Doctors Without Borders trip and I was eager to go see the architecture of South Africa. I wasn't aware she was that bad until father called me."

John waved it off. "We both missed some important things. The important thing is we're still here for each other when it matters."

Deacon's eyebrows furrowed at John's words as Nadia looked up at him. "Who was on the phone, dear?"

Deacon shook his head. "The hospital. A few too many of the first-year residents called out with hangovers and they need coverage. I told them I'd help." 

“Okay,” Nadia replied. Deacon gave her a kiss on the cheek and grabbed his coat. 

“You guys don’t have too much fun without me,” he called back. The front door closed with a heavy bang.

Nadia’s gaze passed back over to John. “They’re mad about that prick, Santino, aren’t they?”

John nodded. 

Nadia scoffed. “He was pathetic. A pretty boy who used all manner of tricks and rules to dodge the trouble he caused for himself. I say good riddance.”

“And I would agree with you, but unfortunately the High Table doesn’t feel the same as we do.”

Nadia nodded. “I have a place-”

“Nadia.” John stopped her. “Don’t. You’re right. If you help me, your neutral status is gone. Let’s just spend a little time together and I will leave when it gets quiet again.”

She studied him earnestly. “Hear me out. I have a place out in Jersey. I rent it to people anonymously, few questions asked. All anonymous, mostly just moral stuff. I’m not going to help a child trafficker, but I’ll hide a bank robber for a few days for a nice cut of the action. It’s secluded. Nobody knows where it is but me and the lawyer. It’s an old place of Dad’s. My biological father, that is.”

“Winston never found out about it?” 

Nadia shook her head. “He said that he raised me to have good business sense and that he did not want to know what I would gain once my trust was opened to me at 18. He said it was none of his business.”

John nodded.

“And as far as Deacon is concerned, Winston is my real father. We all agreed it was better this way. I will give you the address. You and the...King can go lay low there. Start your strategizing and your recovery. With one condition.”

John looked at her solemnly. He was pretty sure he knew what the condition would be, and he had no idea how he was going to promise her what she was going to ask. “Don’t kill Winston?”

Nadia’s face softened. “Not if you can help it. I understand that he might prove to be a pain in your ass. That you may have no choice. If that is what it comes to I will not hold it against you. But he is my father, and I have to at least ask you. Please.”

John leaned back and heaved a heavy sigh. The lump rose in his throat as he said it but he knew he had no choice. “I promise you that unless he makes it absolutely necessary I will not end Winston.”

She smiled. “Thank you.” She pushed away from the counter and walked towards the back of the house. After a moment she returned with a towel and a pair of pajama pants. “Take the room on the second floor. It has an attached bathroom and it is towards the back of the house, so someone would have to risk waking half of the neighborhood trying to get inside. Plus, the bed is away from the window.”

John smirked. “Still thinking tactically, I see.”

“Well, normally I like to sleep in there when Deacon is not home. I never know who Daddy dearest has pissed off on any given day. I’m sure one day it will be someone who doesn’t give a shit about the rules.”

John grabbed the clothes and rose to his feet. The true depth of his exhaustion worked its way through him. “Thank you, Nadi.” he spoke sincerely. “I won’t forget this.”

She threw her arms around him in a quick hug. “It’s the least I can do, Uncle John.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will have more up soon. I'm just trying to pace myself between this, my other fic, and Nano! Because what is pacing?


	3. Chapter 3

“Uncle John! Uncle John!” Marcus called out behind him. “What did you do to get stuck on babysitting duty, Wick?”

John sat in Central Park. It was a day he remembered well, a nice autumn day with a strong breeze making its way through the park. He turned to see Marcus strolling up, two coffees in hand. He looked younger than the last time John knew he had seen him. Back when Viggo and his men took him out. He was having a dream, he guessed. It felt foreign. The first dream in a while that wasn't just fractures of Helen. He hadn't even known her then.

“I volunteered.” John heard himself reply. 

“Waiting for the day she stops being jailbait?” Marcus quipped.

“Okay, that’s just gross, Marcus, Jesus.”

“I agree. Just making sure I don’t need to put a bullet in you now and save us all a whole heck of a lot of trouble.”

“Hey, I end pedophiles for free. Same as you.” John replied. His attention turned back to Nadia as he watched her run around the park. “I don’t know, man. It just felt like it would be a nice thing to do. I’m her godfather after all. And it’s not like Winston will step foot out of that hotel any time soon.”

“Well, you’re right about that. I heard it’s giving Emily absolute fits.”

John nodded. “Still though. It’s not like she’s going to leave him, right? The two happiest people I know.”

“Nah, she won’t leave him.” Marcus cocked his head as he watched Nadia. "Winston doesn't know how good he has it." He looked back to John. "So you went with a normal kid day for once? No knives?"

"She needs to have time to be a kid." John replied. "I'm kind of starting to regret even suggesting she train."

"Well, you knew what a target she is. That she will always be. You did what you thought was best. Clearly, Winston agreed with you." he paused. “She is a whole basket of trouble if the wrong people find out, that's for sure. She is a cute kid, though. It makes me think maybe I shouldn’t have sworn off starting a family.”

“I thought you always said there was no room for a family with men like us.” John replied.

Marcus chuckled. “I did. And I’m probably right. But hey, look at Winston.” He waved a hand towards Nadia. “Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”

John felt a weight on his chest. He began to cough, gasping for breath as the sounds of the park and Nadia playing swirled around him. “Uncle John?” he heard her call faintly. “Uncle John?”

John awoke with a start and found himself pinned down. He could quickly feel his opportunity at getting assistance from Nadia slipping from his grasp as he opened his eyes to find Deacon applying more pressure to the hands around John's throat. If he killed Deacon, Nadia would never forgive him. But he had a sinking feeling that Deacon wouldn't just stop if asked politely. 

John grabbed for the water glass on the nightstand and slammed it into the side of Deacon's head. The man recoiled and it allowed John to use the shift in weight to dump him onto the floor. 

"Why?" John bit out. 

Deacon laughed. "It was Winston who called earlier. He and I had a long conversation about you. Who you are. What you've done. And he told me about the price of the bounty on your head."

“You know what her father is?” John groaned. "Is that all you know?"

"I don't need to know anything else."

John scoffed. "So your plan was to kill me and what? Live the rest of your life with Nadia not knowing what you had done?"

"I'm doing it so Nadia and I can have a better life." Deacon retorted. "I'm two years out of med school. Student loans are killing me. She's having to support us. Do you know how humiliating that is? I should be taking care of her. She's my wife. She's starting to get tired under all of the stress."

John held up his hand. "Look, kid. I can understand where you're coming from. Watching your wife struggle through something you can't help her with is one of the most difficult things a man can do. But do you really think making her go through my funeral is going to help her in any way?"

Deacon laughed as he stood up from the floor. "There's already a whole plan. No funeral for you, friend. The clean-up crew is on the way. All I have to do is finish this."

John held out his hands again in an attempt to make him stop, but Deacon rushed him, tackling him to the ground. John's back hit the door and it slammed with a loud thud against the wall. The two struggled, trading blows. Deacon had made his way back on top of John and wrapped his hands around his neck again, determined to end it once and for all.

John considered for a moment just finally giving in. After all, the kid was trying to do right by his wife. He could relate. And he had already almost died a half dozen times over much less. If he had to die would it be the worst if it helped Nadia? One last token of goodwill from her Uncle John? 

Deacon hissed lowly at him. "Can you just make sure you die quietly? I would hate to have to put Nadi in the ground, too. But Winston was clear: no witnesses."

John felt the blood thunder to his ears. The little shit. He had been willing to kill her for the money as well. John spat in his face and lashed out. His fingers had made contact with Deacon’s face and were pulling him towards the floor when John felt him tense for a moment before falling limp. He looked at him for a moment and saw a thin stream of blood pouring from his mouth.

He looked up to see Nadia standing in the doorway, her hands steady as they held the Beretta M9A3, silencer in place. 

Nadia brought the gun down to her side and exchanged looks with John. Their eyes locked for a brief moment before the ringing of the doorbell. 

"Dinner reservation?" Nadia asked. 

John nodded, and with a sigh, she headed down the stairs. He spent a moment more on the floor before he pushed the weight of Deacon’s body off of him and rose. 

“Charlie!” he heard Nadia announce loudly. “How have you been, old friend?”

“Well, I’ve had better days, love. But business is booming with Mr. Wick out here causing all this chaos.” He heard Charlie respond before he heard his voice drop. “I’m sorry, my dear, that was insensitive. I know how much he means to you. You were practically inseparable for a while there. Just you and your Uncle John!”

“Well, I’m just doing my best to stay neutral,” Nadia replied. “But shall we? Second floor.”

John heard a footstep hit the first stair and he shot into the bathroom. He climbed in the linen closet and closed the door quietly as the voices worked their way up the stairs. There were unintelligible exclamations and some light laughter. He heard the light sing-song of Nadia's voice as she made casual conversation with Charlie. He heard the bumps and thumps that came with the standard reservation. As more time passed, John began to feel as though he would be stuck in that closet for eternity when the voices retreated back down the stairs. He opened the door quietly and stepped out. 

"One more thing, if you will," Nadia called to Charlie. "Before you dispose of him would you be a dear and take him to my father? He'll want confirmation."

Charlie’s voice sounded weary. "Are you sure about that, kid?"

Nadia nodded. “I’m positive.”

“I’ll get it done, then.”

“Thank you, Charlie.” The door closed and the locks clicked back into place.

John peered over the railing and caught her eye. “What the hell did you just do?”


	4. Chapter 4

Winston was roused by Charon calling out to him. He rolled over and cracked open an eye. The clock read at four a.m. He took a deep breath and sat up stiffly. "This had better be good, Charon."

"Sir, Charlie is here to speak with you. He said your daughter sent you leftovers from dinner.”

“My daughter? Does he mean Deacon?” Winston asked groggily as he stepped into his slippers and threw on his robe. Charon simply shrugged. He motioned for Charon to lead him to his guest. Charon called the elevator and took them to the ground floor. He walked Winston to the delivery side door and the two stepped outside. Charlie's sleek black van stood against the dark alleyway. He stood at attention somberly.

Winston took this as a good sign. If there was a delivery from his daughter's house then her useless husband must have pulled it off. Charlie cracked the door of his van open to show bagged carpet, cleaning supplies, and a large black bag that caught Winston's eye. Two men from Charlie’s crew pulled the bag up close to the open door and untied the knot. Pulling down the garbage bag they revealed the last person Winston expected to see.

"You said my daughter sent you with this." he gestured to Deacon's lifeless body. 

"Yes, sir." Charlie replied. 

Winston took a step closer and examined the face and head of the corpse. A single shot pierced the right side of Deacon's skull. A 9mm as best as Winston could make out. John had an affection for his Heckler & Koch P30L. The custom compensator he had installed kept the muzzle pointed down and allowed for his rapid tap style of shooting and a truer aim. He rarely ever used silencers and lately had not been at all. Not to mention, John tended to be a double-tapper.

Nadia was another story. She had stepped away from weaponry a long time ago. But she had asked for one last gun as a wedding present: her Beretta M9A3. Winston had been happy to oblige. He threw in a silencer and demanded that if she ever had to use it that she would use the silencer to keep attention away from the house and that she called him. He didn't trust the cops to take care of his little girl. 

"And it was definitely her that you spoke to and not some other contractor?" 

"Sir, with all due respect, I have a very good idea of who your daughter is. I make it a habit to memorize all the pretty young ladies that will get me into trouble if I don't mind my step. I promise you, it was your daughter."

Winston shot Charlie a dirty look and his frown deepened. "Was anyone else there?"

Charlie shrugged. "Not that we saw. It’s a big house though.”

He took one more look at the entry wound. It had been a straight shot to Deacon's right side. If Deacon had followed the plan he outlined to Winston he was going to use, John would not have been in a position to take the shot. And it would certainly explain why Charlie was adamant that Nadia had sent the leftovers. Winston nodded and turned to walk away. 

"Is there anything, in particular, you want us to do with this one, sir?"

Winston stopped and turned back to face him. "Same thing you do with all of them, Charlie. Get rid of it."

Charlie nodded and his men pulled the body back into the middle of the van and tied the bag back up. 

Winston shook his head as he walked away. 

"Am I right in recognizing that body as the one that belongs to Miss Nadia's husband?" Charon asked. 

Winston sighed. "Yes, you are, my friend."

All Deacon had had to do was coerce Nadia to go along with the plan. Did he even tell her what it was? Had she refused? Or did he keep it to himself? Winston was pretty sure he knew the answer. The kid was brilliant in an academic sort of way. But with common sense and women, Deacon had always been lacking.

"And do we believe Mr. Wick is responsible for this unfortunate accident?" he heard Charon ask.

Winston shook his head. "Not this time, pal." 

"Do we believe Ms. Nadia had good cause to kill her husband?"

"You know, I would like to believe so. But maybe I'm biased. I'm her father."

He walked inside and sighed heavily. The problem was that when it came to Nadia you needed to be more than just book smart if you wanted to make it out alive.


	5. Chapter 5

“What do you mean what did I do?” Nadia sprinted up the stairs. She stopped to look at John. “Come with me.”

John moved up the stairs behind her and made his way through the winding hallways. He hit the door of her bedroom and paused. Nadia had already gotten down on her knees and began to drag several sturdy suitcases out from underneath her bed. She peered up to him. “I don’t know if any of his things will fit you, but I suggest that you start digging.”

John walked over to the closet and thumbed through Deacon’s belongings. A few shirts and jeans would do the trick. The suits needed to be reserved for missions. The bullet-deflecting lining was proving to be invaluable. 

He slowly pulled things down and inspected them as Nadia flitted around behind him. “I should be able to get some money out of one of the ATMs over on the Upper East Side. That way if Dad has anyone access my account, they won’t see a trail of where I might be going.”

“You’re really thinking about money right now.”

Nadia turned. “And what should I be thinking about?”

“The fact that you just killed your husband and sent his body to your father?”

“So?”

“Nadia, you just declared your allegiance. Whether you meant to or not.”

Nadia walked over to her suitcase and dumped the clothes she had been holding. “I walked away from that life. At my dying mother’s request. His dying wife’s request. But he seems to have forgotten that my life was supposed to be one of peace. He invited the violence back into my house, into my life, by convincing my husband to try and kill you. He broke the rules. Which he knew I would never allow to just let slide. You two didn’t raise me that way.”

“I don’t think he intended for you to find out.”

“He called the cleaners. Did he think I’d sleep through all of that?”

“Deacon was trying to strangle me. He was trying to keep it quiet. My guess is that he wanted to sneak back out and pretend that he was at the hospital the whole time.”

Nadia shook her head. “If that was his plan, I’m even more insulted than before. Nobody thinks I’m that fucking dumb, do they?”

“No, I don’t think anyone does.” John sighed. “Look this is all getting off-track. You need to take a moment; you need to mourn…”

“Don’t tell me what I need.” Nadia snapped. “I won’t mourn him. I heard what he said to you. ‘I would hate to have to put Nadi in the ground, too’.” she sneered mockingly. “As if he could. As if he really could have killed either of us. He was far too weak.”

John folded the last shirt and passed it to her to place in the suitcase. “I just don’t want you to carry with you for the rest of your life,” he said quietly.

Nadia stopped and looked him in the eye. “I’ve never been happier to have taken a shot,” she said sincerely. “No one takes another person I care about away from me.” She zipped up the suitcases and ducked under the bed. She pulled two sleek, gunmetal-colored briefcases from under her bed and handed one to John. “We’re going to need these.”

“What are they?”

“An assistant for the escape plan.”

John cracked open the one he was handed to reveal a set of lockpicking tools, some cash, ammunition, and a P30L. 

“You always hated P30Ls.” he commented. He stared at it closely and saw a familiar customized compensator. 

“You’re right. And I still do.”

“But you have one. With my custom compensator.”

Nadia stopped and looked at him. “Look, just because I had the highest hopes that you would never have to use it doesn’t mean I was willing to take the chance. I figured if you ever made it around my way again you would be in pretty dire straits.”

That was the Nadia he had helped raise. Always cautious. Always planning. In her mind, it was never a matter of if the sky would fall. It was only a matter of when. He watched as she turned back and continued to shove clothing and equipment in a bag. He could see that her mind was working overtime, plotting and planning the next steps. It was pointless to try and get through to her now. She was in and not even God himself could stop her.

Nadia walked back over to the closet and slid clothes to the sides. In a large gap, she pressed on three distinct spots in the wall and a false door popped open. She gestured at John to pass through and he ducked his way in. He heard her behind him as she closed the closet doors, slid the clothes back into place, and firmly closed the secret door. He turned and made his way down the stairs to a garage. There were several cars parked in a row. All of them were black with heavy tint except one: a white Range Rover. 

“Let me guess,” he quipped, pointing at the Range Rover. “Deacon’s?”

Nadia rolled her eyes. “Yeah.” She walked over to a wall of keys and began scanning them. “The road out to the property is a dirt one. A fair number of potholes. I’m thinking the Suburban.”

John nodded and she grabbed the keys off of the hook. They climbed into the Suburban and buckled up. Nadia fiddled with the radio briefly before settling on a low-key classical channel. 

They pulled out of the garage and drove towards the East Side. 

“I’m sorry,” John spoke after a while.

“For what?”

“Everything. I knew better than to come to you. I didn’t want to ask you. But B.K. wouldn’t let it alone.”

Nadia shrugged. “Who the hell else is going to have your back besides me and him, John?”

“What do you mean?”

Nadia shook her head. “I already knew about you being excommunicado. Dad called me a few hours before you showed up.”

John turned to face her. “And what did he say?”

She shrugged. “Oh, you know. Reminded me of the safety my neutrality offered me. Advised me that taking in a fugitive of the High Table would look an awful lot like I was breaking that neutrality. And told me he could not be responsible for what happens if I ignored his advice.”

“But he knew you would.”

Nadia nodded. “Of course, he did. I owe you my life.”

“I think we’re even now. With Deacon.”

Nadia chuckled. “Yeah, right. You’re John Wick. You could take some scrawny first-year resident, easy. I just expedited the process.”

John was quiet for a moment. “I never saw the appeal anyway.” he shrugged. 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean he was blonde, tan, not really all that rugged or strong. Not particularly handsome. Plus with a name like Deacon?”

“What’s wrong with the name Deacon?” Nadia asked incredulously. 

“Nothing, I suppose. Personally, when I think of the name Deacon I think religious. But you’re the girl who called me at twelve years old to come pick you up and help you explain to your mom and dad that you were kicked out of your mother’s old Catholic school for standing up in assembly and announcing that you believed that religion was a tool of the patriarchy designed to keep women and gullible men subservient while the rest of the men raped the world.”

“I would still say I believe that is true,” she responded nonchalantly. 

“Proudest day your father’s life. Your mother’s? Not so much.”

Nadia chuckled. “Well, I did my best to live how mama wanted me to. Turns out it’s not as simple as some would lead you to believe.”

“You could turn this around, Nadi. Go home. Remind your father that he was the one who broke the rules.”

“Do you think that would really do any good?” Nadia asked. “There have been people waiting for me to slip up. They figured that someday that part of me would come out. That I couldn’t hold it down or suffocate it. And I guess they were right.”

John said nothing. It was painful for him to think about how she was in this mess because of him. It was one thing that the Bowery King and Winston knew that she would help him. Between them, he figured they could keep it all contained. While Winston considered John like a son, he had called for excommunicado anyway when John had broken the rules. 

But Nadia was different. Nadia was really Winston’s daughter, as far as Winston was concerned. So far, she had only killed her husband because of a scheme of Winston's. At this moment, only John, Nadia, and Winston knew the why. 

John sighed heavily. The question that plagued his mind was repetitious and all-consuming: Would Winston make sure the secret stayed between them?


End file.
